


One of Those Days

by octoberdear (salamoonder)



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Crying, Depression, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, and roman feels inadequate because virge won't tell him what's wrong, and then there's fluff, basically virgil sees no point in getting out of bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 18:57:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16561436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salamoonder/pseuds/octoberdear
Summary: Some days it doesn’t matter that the other sides have accepted Virgil; he feels isolated and miserable anyway. Prinxiety angst/fluff.





	One of Those Days

**Author's Note:**

> Note that Virgil uses pretty severe self talk, so be wary of that. This is like six months old and I'm finally posting it, YAY.

The moment Virgil wakes up he wants to go right back to sleep. He rolls over and presses his face into the pillow, feeling it warm with his breath. It’s going to be one of those days. Great.

Patton calls him for breakfast and he forces himself to yell “five more minutes!” to avoid being rude. They already see him as an annoying emo teen. He’ll live up to the role.

Ten minutes later when Logan knocks to tell him the food’s getting cold, he tells him that they should start eating without him. Logan’s voice is muffled but discernible through the door.

“Virgil, are you alright?”

“I’m sick,” Virgil lies, and hopes it’ll keep them at bay.

It’s easier to let them believe that. Easier to just lie here, almost too exhausted to keep his eyes open, and hunt for the bits of light that manage to fight their way from under his curtains. Easier to follow them as the sun moves across the mindscape as the day slips away from him to even think about functioning. About living. Ugh.

He blinks, shakes his head slightly, tries to rid his ears of the dull ringing permeating his skull. He wishes he had the energy to get up and turn on some music, even if it’s just the same MCR album that he’s listened to a thousand times. Anything to drive out the noise in his head. He spends a few minutes wrestling with his thoughts, trying to insult himself out of bed.

_Get up. Get your ass out of bed. You’re such a lazy piece of shit. Just do it. Just move your hand fucking five inches to turn on your phone and scroll through iTunes._

He gives up after what must be ten minutes. It feels like ten years.

All too soon, someone’s calling his name down the hall. “An _xi_ ety!” the voice singsongs, and Virgil groans and shoves his face further into the pillow. The door bursts open without so much as a single knock and a second later the end of his bed sinks as Roman bounces over. “Do I have to serenade you out of bed in the morning now? Because I’m totally up for that.”

Virgil lets out a non committal growl, grabs his second pillow, and shoves it over his head so he doesn’t have to listen to Roman being so goddamn cheery. Roman flops backward so his head is riiiiight next to Virgil’s.

“Oh, come on, Marilyn Morose, I know Logan said you’re sick but you still have to eat, right?”

“Don’t wanna.” Virgil mumbles into the pillow. He’s too miserable to even fire back an insult. Hearing Roman breathe is oddly comforting though, and Virgil finds himself wishing Roman will stay and pester him- at the very least so he can be forced to actually speak to another person. It means he has the pseudo energy to open his mouth.

Roman removes the top pillow from Virgil’s head and Virgil groans in protest.

“Virge. Are you really that sick?”

Guilt burns in Virgil’s stomach. He shouldn’t worry the other sides, even if it means exposing himself. “I’m not sick, Roman, just...stupid. Just let me sleep.”

Roman goes quiet for a minute and Virgil thinks maybe he’s about to leave, but then he asks, “Is it one of those days?”

“What?” Virgil asks, finally turning his head to look at Roman, who’s staring right at him with uncharacteristic concern. “One of what days?”

“You know; one of those days when you lock yourself in your room and refuse to talk to any of us or eat and leave us all worried sick and then act like everything’s fine the next day?”

Virgil isn’t ready for even the slight edge in Roman’s voice. “Roman, I-”

But Roman’s already starting to shift himself off the bed. “Shit. Um. Forget I said anything, return to your regularly scheduled angst, I’ll just be going now-”

“Roman, _wait_.”

Virgil sits up in time to see Roman pause in the doorway. “I’m. I’m sorry, Virgil, it’s just-? What could possibly be so bad that you won’t tell your boyfriend? It’s...it makes me feel like you don’t trust me.”

Virgil feels his heart melt a bit and he buries his head in his hands. “Roman…” he starts. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. I just. I don’t want you to have to think of me as a burden. I don’t want you to...have to carry the weight of...what I am.”

Roman turns to look at him. “But I want to carry the weight! Don’t you understand that that’s the whole point? That me, you, us- that we’re supposed to do this together?”

Peering through his fingers, Virgil can see his shoulders slump. “What’s the point of being a prince if you can’t even save your boyfriend from himself?”

“I…” Tears prick at Virgil’s eyes. Shit. The last thing he wants to do is make Roman feel bad. “I’m sorry, Roman, I just. I don’t know how to tell you these things and I don’t know how you can help. It’s...just. Sometimes I have bad days and I. Ugh. Sometimes I just hate being alive.”

Roman is back on the bed in two seconds flat, stroking Virgil’s hair. Virgil leans his head against Roman’s chest and closes his eyes.

“Okay,” Roman murmurs, “okay. You’re alright. I’ve got you.”

“I didn’t mean to make you feel bad,” he says softly after a minute. Virgil looks up.

“No, Roman, I- I shouldn’t have-”

“Shh. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. And I...I shouldn’t have tried to force you.”

Virgil sniffles. “Roman?”

“Mm?”

“Can we cuddle and watch Coraline?” He still feels shy, asking things like that. Sometimes he feels like he’ll never be used to affection.

Roman smiles and kisses the tears still trickling down Virgil’s face. “Only if you eat something first.”

“I hate you,” says Virgil, and leans forward to kiss his nose.


End file.
